The other side

Chapter One: Muggle Parents

The darkness filled the room with a black fog and seas of dreams around the house flew everywhere, I picked at a couple and saw what they were dreaming. Mother dreaming of pairs of red shoes and pretty white pearls, and father dreaming of how he could've succeeded in life without us. It was indeed miserable knowing what other people thought all the time, it sometimes broke my heart what they would say inside their head and rather not say aloud. Father's dreams were always horrible; calling us rats and throwing us out and he'd always think that without us he could've made it big, and by big he thought: sexy women, big mansion in America, beautiful sport cars and collosal piles of money and gold lying on the floors. It's not true though. None of it is. I quickly escape the dream, gold dust flying around me sparkling as it travels from one mind to another. I can't control dreams or make them see what i want or make them have nightmares, I only see what they are dreaming and if I want to see a dream i just tap the gold dust gently and it takes me there. Wherever and whatever the human is dreaming. I have been known to do this for as long as I can remember, but no one else knows, except me. I've kept it a secret for no one to find out in case i get taken away or experminted on which would be a nightmare and torturous dream which I wish upon no human being with secret and beautiful talents. Here I am still lying awake in the darkest of nights at around 2 am in the morning, downstairs by the cooling fireplace which doesn't seem to be making me warm and toasty anymore. Down on the dirty rags I lay, like some sort of rat begging for warmth in my head, it seems these days I only have the gold shimmering dust to keep me going and alive. My body suddenly starts to shiver and my spine and bones crack to the movement of it. "Stupid idiots, can't afford to make a fire warm but have enough money to buy beer and vodka." I whisper harshly to myself. I, myself have a beautiful mind full of imagination, ideas and inspiration but on the outside all people see is a rude, outgoing joke. I was named a joke, to all the people that have ever cared about me have now either named me rude or a joke, it's a trend in the family I guess we're all idiotic jokes that have no right to be on this earth. At least that's what other people say...

Two Months Later
"You're a fucking idiot you are." Mother screams down the corridoor at me leaving an echo of those same disgusting words.
"Yeah, and you, you're a bitch. A disgusting little whore who doesn't care about anything but herself. Your own daughters dying inside because of you!! Because of you... You're bloody daughter's going to kill herself!!" I screamed with almighty passion. Down the corridoor it rang, whispering the same few words over and over again. Raging with anger I shuddered and stood perfectly still, my eyes fumed with death and turned as black as the nights sky. She stood still and had no words to reply back with for she had seen the worst of me, and after a minute for which seemed like an hour she then turned and strode into her room, slamming the door behind her. And as soon as she was gone, I fell to my knees banging at the hard wooden floor, grabed at my hair tearing at it with all my strength, and screamed as loud as my voice would let me and cried with a mixture of anger and sorry unforgivable tears. This had been going on for weeks now, i would do something incorrectly and she would scream at me, making it unbearable to live, unbearable to listen to the same words being screamed at me over and over again. It truly was a living nightmare.